World’s Strongest Bug, In comparison

Eric is still on the mattress. Well, as still as Eric seems to get. His ears and tail are twitching, still half shifted, and Draz isn’t sure if it’s because he wants to be or if he can’t stop. His eyes are moving under his eyelids, and a soft growling snore comes from his throat, though it hitches at times, like he can’t quite catch his breath. Draz can’t see Eric’s legs under the blanket, but he doesn’t really need to. Every time he closes his eyes he can see them, twisted and clawed and wrong. Just. Wrong. When Draz had left the Fae realm, he had expected differences. Of course he had, it was an entirely different world. He had expected the weird clothes and phrases and customs, but he hadn’t really considered. This. His friend laying mangled in his bed, looking small. Eric had never really seemed small. He was loud and brash and bright, being too big for his body. Everyone Draz had met had seemed so strong. Felix’s claws had glinted when he held out his hand to shake, and Eric’s fangs flashed when he smiled, and the magic rolled off of Aiden, burning and blistering. Now Draz looks around the room again. Eric on the bed, Felix sat beside it, Aiden looking out the window. He remembers a day in battle training, when the instructor had spoken of mortal folk. Xer eyes twinkled with humor as xe described their short lives, powerful sure, but short. Small in the face of the fae. He looks down at Eric’s hand, clutched in his sheets, and despite the power Draz knows it holds he thinks it looks as breakable as bird bones. Like Draz could roll his wrist between his fingers and it would snap. Bile rises in his throat. Draz stumbles from his seat and goes to sit and face the door. He feels Adien’s eyes on his back, but doesn’t turn to meet them. He can’t.

Draz keeps watch, his friends at his back. He flares his wings slightly, like he’s trying to hide them from the door. He knows it does nothing, but still. He keeps watch.